Winterhold Under Siege
by Edapurg
Summary: An-Zaw and his housecarl Lydia seek an Elder Scroll in Winterhold. The weather is brutal and the wildlife even more so. But little do they know that they are being followed. And soon, the people of Winterhold are going to find out just how much of a threat the dragons pose.
1. Chapter 1 - Road to Winterhold

_AN: This is my first fanfiction, so you'll understand if I'm not really sure what to write here. However, I feel that I should give you a heads up that this story will be rather liberally sprinkled with lines in Draconic. Most of the Draconic is just for flavour; you won't miss anything important and I think you'll be able to figure out what most of it means anyway. If you feel you really need to understand all of the Draconic words, then there are a few Draconic translators floating around the internet. Anyway, enjoy the story!_

Premniruth sat perched atop the outcropping on the _strunmah_… What did the _joor_ call it? Mount Anthor. It did not matter. The _joor_ could speak their guttural _deinok_; Premniruth was one of the _dovah._ He watched the _joor_ in their ruined _hiim_ and their stone _bruz_ and he felt nothing but contempt. A dozen of them had come to his _strunmah_ to slay him; a dozen frozen _joor_ lay dead before the wall.

And still Premniruth waited on his _strunmah._ He watched the _joor_, and waited for the time to strike. It was his nature – in the tongue of the dragons, Premniruth's name meant _patience hunt command_. In the _strunmah_ around him, ten more _dovah_ waited for him to lead them to the _hiim._ All the while, Prenmiruth remained on his perch, watching the _strah_ for signs of the Dovahkiin. Premniruth's quarry was seeking a _kel_, and Alduin himself had given Prenmiruth the task of stopping the _joor_. Why the Dovahkiin was searching for a _kel_, Premniruth did not know. But he watched, with eyes tenfold keener than any _skar_, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Dovahkiin.

For eight _sul_ Premniruth stared unblinkingly at the _strah_. Travellers passed by, sometimes glancing up at the _strunmah_ with _faas_ in their eyes. Premniruth gave them no _lor_; they did not have the _dovahsil_. So he watched. Until finally, he saw it; two _joor_, travelling down the _strah_. He watched them approach, and eventually sensed the _dovahsil_ in one of them. The Dovahkiin approached. Premniruth would not give the _somirk_ yet; the _joor_ would see them coming. But soon, the _dovah_ would take to the _lok_, and they would rain _yol_ and _fo_ upon the _joor._

* * *

The cold was biting and the blizzard felt like it was flaying your skin off as you walked. An-Zaw didn't mind the weather, except for how difficult it was to see through it; he was an Argonian, and his scales protected him from it. The cold, though, was a problem. Like all Argonians, An-Zaw was cold-blooded, and Skyrim's temperature was very much less than ideal. Despite this, though, An-Zaw was unlikely to succumb to hypothermia no matter how tempting it might seem at times; some time ago he had acquired a set of fur-lined Nordic carved armour, made in the traditional ways of the Nords, as well as a bear-skin cloak he found on a dead low-life in the wilds. He drew the cloak around him with one hand, and in the other conjured the meagre flame spell he had learnt as soon as he was able. An-Zaw's housecarl Lydia, meanwhile, seemed largely apathetic about the cold whilst she was wearing her cloak and this infuriated An-Zaw to no end.

Unfortunately, the Argonian and his housecarl had no choice but to go to Winterhold; An-Zaw was the Dragonborn, prophesied to be the only one able to destroy Alduin. To do that, he needed to find an Elder Scroll, and the only place in Skyrim he would be able to find one was the Mages' College in Winterhold. An-Zaw and Lydia had been walking for a week now along the west of Skyrim. An-Zaw refused to take the shortcut through Windhelm – yes, they would be able to rest and it would take two days off the journey, but An-Zaw had been there before. He did not want to face the prejudice of the Nords again.

So they walked. They ate the cooked meat of the wolves they had killed on the path and they drank melted snow to avoid dehydration. _We have to be getting close_, thought An-Zaw. They were just passing the mountain ranges near the town, so it couldn't be more than perhaps a day away. That's when An-Zaw heard the sound: somewhere between a hiss and breaking glass, the sound in and of itself was cold. There was only one thing it could be.

"Ice wraiths!" yelled An-Zaw, drawing his sword. Nordic-made like the armour, with a potent fire enchantment placed on it by himself. The blade radiated warmth in An-Zaw's hand. But more importantly in this situation, it could kill ice wraiths.

A crystalline serpent swooped towards An-Zaw's head, mandibles opened. An-Zaw dove out of the way just before the wraith snapped its jaws on his skull. As he landed, he saw that Lydia had taken her sword out as well. A wraith sped towards her, and Lydia raised her shield. The wraith embedded itself in the wood of the shield, and Lydia shattered its near-ethereal form on a rock.

The ice wraith which An-Zaw had narrowly avoided turned around. It screamed in that horrible, chilling voice and came back around for another go. An-Zaw rolled onto his back, tightened his grip on the carved sword and held it out in front of him. The ice wraith sped directly towards it, too fast to avoid the blade, and An-Zaw fancied that he saw fright in those frozen eyes before its head was impaled on the blade. The wraith's body melted off the blade as An-Zaw got to his feet. Lydia sidestepped an oncoming wraith and deftly cleaved it in two, but another ice wraith was approaching from behind. An-Zaw ran towards her to kill the wraith before it got to her, but the wraith was too fast and it ensnared Lydia's exposed upper arm in its deathly cold jaws. The housecarl let go of her steel sword and cried out in pain, flailing her arms in an attempt to shake the creature off, but it held on, its teeth sinking into her flesh. An-Zaw hit another ice wraith with his sword as it charged at him, and reached Lydia. She was still desperately trying to shake the translucent serpent off her arm. An-Zaw couldn't get a clear swing, but if he let the wraith stay there for much longer then Lydia would surely lose the arm altogether. An-Zaw took the swing.

The ice wraith let go of Lydia's arm as the skeletal body and head fell separately. Lydia sank to the ground. "Lydia, are you alright?" said An-Zaw. He looked at the wound; the ice wraith had left a deep wound on Lydia's arm, and its bite left cold burns. An-Zaw had picked up a healing spell at much the same time as the flame spell, but this was beyond his ability with Restoration magic.

"Of all the risks I knew I was taking travelling with you, I have to admit that ice wraiths were one of the first things that came to mind," came Lydia's pained reply.

"What were the others?" asked An-Zaw; anything to get Lydia's mind off the pain would get them back on the road faster. He produced a flask of cold resistance potion from his bag, and held it towards Lydia. "Here, drink this."

Lydia did so. "Well, I was worried about sabrecats, giants, bandits, and of course…"

A roar echoed from the mountain range. Lydia and An-Zaw immediately looked towards the source of the noise.

"… Dragons."

* * *

Premniruth had to fight to stop his _stru'un_ from overcoming him. Grahrahgol, that _vik mey_! Premniruth knew better than to bring that _sosgrentus hefah_ with him. Grahrahgol was one of the fiercest _dovah_ left, but he had always been a _pahlokaal_ moron with no concept of patience. The idiot had decided to attack the Dovahkiin early. _Nid hiitir_, thought Premniruth. _Til los unstiid zuk._ And besides, there was always a chance that Grahrahgol could actually _krii_ the Dovahkiin himself. For now, Premniruth would just watch.

* * *

"Lydia, stay there!" said An-Zaw. He couldn't risk her getting the dragon's attention, not in this state. The dragon flew over the mountain; its scales were a bright blood red, its brow festooned with horns. An-Zaw drew his sword, and ran away from Lydia yelling as loudly as he could to get the dragon's attention. "_**FUS!**_" he yelled, drawing on his inborn power of the Thu'um. That seemed to work. The dragon turned its head toward him, and began its descent. It folded its wings along its body, plummeting downwards headfirst, and unfurled them just before it hit the ground, flying straight towards An-Zaw. That's when An-Zaw saw a golden opportunity.

Just before the red dragon smashed into him, An-Zaw ducked. And as the dragon flew over him, An-Zaw did something incredibly dangerous – he grabbed onto its tail.

* * *

Premniruth had a _mein_ for a great many things. But this wasn't one of them. _Daar joor kend kos hren._ The battle seemed to be moving towards the _strunmah_, though. The _joor_ would be too preoccupied to notice the other _dovah_, but they might join the battle. If they did that, everything would be _rignivon_. If he gave a command, surely the _joor_ would not notice… "_Fey veyn hi los, dovah!_"

* * *

An-Zaw found the rush of air exhilarating. He would probably have enjoyed it more if he wasn't holding on for dear life with the dragon thrashing its tail around as much as possible without losing balance. Even worse was the fact that he could only hold on with one hand if he wanted to keep his weapon. An-Zaw reversed his grip, and stabbed into the dragon's scales. Now at least he had something better to hold on to. He started climbing from the dragon's tail, when it took a sharp turn towards the mountains. The dragon yelled something in its language; not a Thu'um, but more like a command. "_Il shur, joor!_" It started flying straight towards a mountain, and then turned right, scraping its tail along the mountainside. An-Zaw let go with his free hand and swung around to the other side of the dragon's tail, holding on to the hilt of his blade. He found a strong grip with his left hand, and pulled out his sword. The wound cauterised instantly, so the dragon would not die of blood loss. This was going to be more difficult.

The dragon had gotten away from the mountainside, and was flying up and down, side to side, trying to get An-Zaw to let go. But An-Zaw somehow managed to stay on, and eventually got to the dragon's torso, using the sword to haul him along. Now it would be a bit easier; An-Zaw could hold onto the dragon's spines as well. The dragon spun around in a circle, and An-Zaw almost fell off. He held onto one of the dragons spines, and noticed that he could do some serious damage to the dragon's wing. _No_, he decided. _Too risky, and we're flying over the sea_.

The dragon started flying normally again, then started to descend. _Wait a moment_, though An-Zaw. _If we're flying over the sea…_"

An-Zaw had been almost standing, hauling himself along the spines on the dragon's back. He had seconds to change that. He stabbed into the dragon with the sword. The dragon was flying at such a high speed that An-Zaw's feet were dangling in the air. They were about to hit the water. An-Zaw let go of the spine and threw himself flat onto the dragon's back, gripping the hilt of the sword. He grabbed onto a spine with his other hand, and then the dragon hit the water.

If he had been anything other than an Argonian, then An-Zaw would probably have died. But he was an Argonian, and he was able to breathe water as easily as air. Even so, An-Zaw almost fell off from the sheer impact of hitting the water, and the frigid temperature almost had him freezing to death. The dragon went down, deeper into the ocean, and then pulled up. An-Zaw was almost pulled off the beast's back by the water surging past him, but he held on. And then he saw that the dragon was not going towards the open air, but an ice sheet. An-Zaw bowed his head to his helmet would take the brunt of the impact, and the dragon smashed right through the ice. A chunk of ice his An-Zaw full on, and he was losing his grip. The dragon continued its ascent. Up, and up, and up…

And then An-Zaw let go, taking his sword with him. He started falling. _So this is how it ends_, he thought. _Falling off the back of an angry dragon in midair. All things considered, I could have died in a worse fashion_. And he was falling. And falling. The dragon was turning around, back towards him. It opened its mouth. An-Zaw realised that the dragon would swallow him whole.

An-Zaw kept falling, and the dragon kept soaring towards him. He felt calm, knowing he was about to die. _Lydia will probably die as well_, he thought. _What a shame. She was so loyal._ And yet, he did not let go of his sword. He'd be damned if he let himself die without a weapon in his hand.

And then, by a million-to-one chance, the dragon missed and flew under An-Zaw. And An-Zaw landed on top of it. He was rolling backwards along the beast's back, and managed to grab one of the spines on its back. He remembered what he was doing, and continued his crawl along the length of the giant lizard.

He got to its head. He could kill the dragon right now, a strike through the brain. But they were still out to sea. He grabbed onto one of its horns on the left. He sheathed his sword and grabbed onto one on the right. Then, mustering all his strength, he turned the dragon around. Back to land. He steered the beast back to the mountain he had left Lydia near, as the dragon desperately breathed gouts of flame. It shook its head, and An-Zaw let go of the right horn, swinging around so he was hanging off one side of the beast's head. He unsheathed his sword again, and struck at the dragon's eye. It started falling, but it wasn't dead yet. An-Zaw swung a leg back over the dragon's head and climbed back up.

"I think it's time you stayed still!" yelled An-Zaw, and gave one last mighty stab into the dragon's head. It crash landed on the ground, and as it came to a halt at the side of the road, An-Zaw leapt off its head and sheathed his sword.

"That could have been done in a more exciting manner, I think," said Lydia.

An-Zaw walked over to her. "Very funny. Come on, let's get you to Winterhold." He helped Lydia up and they continued down the road.

* * *

Premniruth had known that killing the Dovahkiin would be rather _burk_. But this… This was _uful_. Not to worry though. Premniruth still had another nine _dovah_, and next time they would all be attacking _ahst ont._ The Dovahkiin would fall – Premniruth was sure of that.

_End of Chapter 1._

_AN: This is really more of an introductory chapter to set up the characters, but don't worry; we'll definitely get to Winterhold next chapter. Anyway, what did you think? I would really appreciate some constructive criticism, so please do that._


	2. Chapter 2 - The College

They walked the rest of the day. The cold didn't bother An-Zaw much now; the soul from the dragon, Grahrahgol, was anger and fury and heat and fire. It brought with it a word of Fire Breath, _toor _– inferno. The dragon's name meant 'battle rage' – an apt description. When An-Zaw saw through the dragon's soul the last minutes of its life, all he saw was burning and a haze of sheer berserker rage. There was nothing useful in there, nothing interesting – simply the inferno. But An-Zaw was warm, and that was something.

They were making good time, even if An-Zaw did have to help Lydia walk. Her condition had worsened, and they were running out of cold resistance potion. Lydia's arm was icy cold, and the bite was turning black from frostbite. She would lose it if they took another day.

The blizzard was starting up again. An-Zaw had used his Voice to clear the weather after he killed Grahrahgol, but it would not be permanent. The clouds gathered once more, and in minutes the snow was falling again. An-Zaw was certain that the blizzard was even fiercer than before. He had to clear it.

An-Zaw took a deep breath, and Shouted. "_**LOK PAH TOOR!**_" The Shout echoed through the mountains and the snowdrifts, louder than it had any right to be. The blizzard relented – but only for a moment. The snow kept falling, and the wind kept blowing. For a moment, An-Zaw glimpsed a mass of rocks and cliffs ahead of them.

An-Zaw waited until he regained his strength and tried again. "_**LOK PAH TOOR!**_" Again, the snow cleared, and again, it returned. But in that brief instant, before the blizzard returned, An-Zaw looked ahead, trying to get a clearer picture of the landscape. They weren't rocks, he saw. They were ruins, barely clinging to the cliff face. And near them… Lights.

Winterhold.

An-Zaw paused for a moment, relieved. "Don't worry Lydia. We're almost there."

* * *

Premniruth did not move when the _Thu'um_ cleared the _iizstrun_ for a moment. He waited, and watched, as was his nature. He knew that they had the _tozeinnu grozein_ to strike, to _krii_ the Dovahkiin and the other _joor_. Uliidtusnoz, one of the _dovah_ under Premniruth's command, flew over to him "_Tiinvak stiildegaar, Uliidtusnoz,_" whispered Premniruth in a voice that was _griindol_ _ok. _"_Joor kend ni hon."_

"_Vah dreh mu ni nos nu?_" said Uliidtusnoz. "_Gein do joor los ahraan, ahrk mu lost zuk tokaan._"

"_Pek, Uliidtusnoz. Hi fen koraav_." Premniruth turned back to watch the _joor_. "_Mu fen iidah das, lost nid ren._"

That seemed to _puulin_ Uliidtusnoz. The other _dovah_ flew back to his _firig_ place, and Premniruth continued to watch the _joor_. In _vahzen_, he had changed his _mein_. The Dovahkiin was seeking a _kel_ in the _lohiim_; say he found it? He would _griindol reistigaar_ take it back to the _strunmah_ where the _vax_ Paarthurnax dwelled. Premniruth would be able to retrieve the _kel_ for Alduin, as well as _krii_ both the _joor_. If they had a _kel_, the _dovah_ would be unstoppable. But they would have to _iidah_ closer to the _lohiim_ in that case. That meant dealing with the _lahzey_, and even ten _dovah_ would have _leik_ if it came to that. Premniruth flew to the place where he knew he would _siiv_ Bofaanfor. He had a _dremah_ he needed sent.

* * *

An-Zaw and Lydia passed through a great stone gate. Or what used to be one; the wall at the entrance to Winterhold was dilapidated and crumbling. Past the gate there were only a paltry few buildings; the Jarl's Hall, an inn, and a few old houses. Behind the inn lay the ruins; the wrecked wooden foundations of destroyed houses, and beyond those a great cliff. The cliff was not the product of natural erosion – it looked more like one day, the ground beyond it had simply given up and collapsed.

They passed through the gate, and headed towards the inn. It would be best to get some food and warm up by the fire before they moved on. The inn was a modest building. Its thatched roof was covered in snow, and a faded sign hanging from a weathered post out the front bore a Nord symbol and the words 'The Frozen Hearth.' An-Zaw and Lydia walked up the old wooden steps and went inside.

The Frozen Hearth's interior did not look much better. A fire crackled in the centre of the main room, and wooden tables lined the walls. At one of the tables sat a Nord man surrounded by dented tankards. Nearby, a woman was sweeping the floor with a broom. In front of the counter, another Nord with tied back blond hair was talking to an Altmer mage wearing blue robes. Despite the conversation, the inn felt strangely silent.

"I'm sorry Dagur, could you describe the smell?" asked the mage.

"Like some horrible monster was turned inside and out, and then exploded," said the Dagur. "What did you do?"

"It was a minor miscalculation. I've already corrected it for future experiments."

"This… This is why people have a problem with your College, Nelacar." Dagur turned, and walked back behind the counter. Nelacar, the mage, sat down in a rickety wooden chair by the fire and started reading a book. Dagur noticed the two adventurers standing by the door.

"Not often we get guests coming through Winterhold." Dagur took an old rag from under the counter and began wiping the dusty counter. "Let alone Argonians. Anything we can do for you on your way to the College?"

"How did you –" asked An-Zaw before Dagur interrupted.

"It's the only reason anyone ever comes here. That or they live here and can't scrape together enough to go somewhere else. I don't see a problem with it though, just as long as we get any business."

"My friend here's hurt," said An-Zaw. "She needs help."

Dagur paused. "The road to Winterhold is difficult. I don't have anything that can help you, but Nelacar here might be able to help." He gestured towards Nelacar, who looked up from his book.

"I've told you, Dagur, I'm not with the College anymore," Nelacar said irritably. "If they want to join, they have to speak with Faralda at the bridge."

"This isn't about the college," hissed An-Zaw. "My friend Lydia's hurt and needs healing. You can do that, can't you?"

"In that case, I would be happy to help," said Nelacar, standing up. "Just sit her down in this chair and I'll see what I can do."

An-Zaw did so. Nelacar crouched down beside Lydia and examined the wound. "This is an Ice Wraith bite, correct?" An-Zaw nodded. "How long ago was she bitten?"

"I don't know," said An-Zaw. "I think it was maybe ten hours ago."

A golden light appeared in Nelacar's hand. He pressed the light against Lydia's wound, but after a few seconds he pulled it away sharply.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do here," said Nelacar. "The bite's too severe. You need to find Colette Marence, in the College. She'll know what to do."

"Thank you," said An-Zaw. He walked over the counter and placed a few septims on it for the innkeeper, then walked back to Lydia. He helped her stand back up and put her other arm over his neck to support her. The two of them walked back outside, then down the snow-covered cobblestones to the bridge.

A High Elf woman stood guard there. An-Zaw guessed that this must be Faralda. "Cross the bridge at your own peril!" she said as An-Zaw and Lydia approached. "The way is dangerous, and the gate will not open. You will not gain entry!"

"I don't have time for this," said An-Zaw. I need to enter the College!"

"And I will gladly let you in," said Faralda. "If you tell me what your purpose here is."

"My friend is injured," said An-Zaw. "And I need an Elder Scroll."

"Well, healing is one of the services that the College provides for the Nords in Winterhold, as much as they hate to admit it," said Faralda. "As for the Elder Scroll… You'll need to pass a test for us. Prove that you have some magical ability."

"He's the Dragonborn," groaned Lydia. "He can just show you a Shout, right?"

Faralda looked slightly taken aback for a moment, then put her look of confidence back on. "Is she telling the truth? Are you really… Dragonborn?"

An-Zaw cursed himself under his breath. Why didn't he think of this before? "Yes." He turned around to demonstrate. "_**FUS RO DAH!**_" A blue wave of pure, unstoppable kinetic force erupted from An-Zaw's mouth, uprooting a post from the snow in the ruins and sending it flying into the Sea of Ghosts.

"Very impressive!" said Faralda. "I think you'll make a superb addition to the College. I'll lead you inside; once we're there we'll get your friend to Colette."

"Wonderful," said Lydia as they started moving. "I think I'm starting to die here."

* * *

Faralda led An-Zaw and Lydia across the bridge. She was certainly right about it being dangerous; the thin stone bridge was covered in ice and snow, and there was a long fall awaiting them if they slipped. The bridge was barely in better condition than Winterhold's walls, as well, and An-Zaw felt as though it could crumble at any moment. Eventually, they somehow made it across without falling to their deaths. "You'll want to talk to Mirabelle Ervine, our Master Wizard," said Faralda, indicating the Breton woman arguing with a High Elf in Thalmor robes across the courtyard. "I'll take your friend to find Colette."

An-Zaw approached Mirabelle after the Thalmor left. She took him on a tour of the College grounds, and once that was done he went to the Hall of Countenance to check up on Lydia. She was looking better; Colette had a golden light in her hand similar to Nelacar's, and was holding it near the bite. An-Zaw noticed that the blackened area had receded significantly, and Lydia seemed to be in less pain. "How are you doing?" asked An-Zaw.

"Much better," said Lydia. "I'm not sure why I never thought to pick up some Restoration training earlier."

"You're lucky you got her to me when you did," said Colette, keeping the spell where it was. "Ice Wraith bites can be nasty, but she'll be all right. It'll be a couple of days before she's fully healed, though."

"Thank you," said An-Zaw. He turned around, heading for the alchemist table. As an Argonian, he had a penchant for alchemy and was always eager to experiment with the new ingredients he found in Skyrim. After that, he went to the Hall of the Elements for lessons in magic. He had plenty of time to ask about an Elder Scroll. Inside the hall were a Khajiit, a Nord, and a Dark Elf.

"You wouldn't happen to be our master, would you?" asked the Dark Elf. "We've been sitting here for an hour and he still hasn't shown up."

"J'Zargo came to the College to learn powerful spells," said the Khajiit. "Not to sit around in silence."

"I'm not your master, I'm afraid," said An-Zaw. "Just an apprentice, like you."

"What's with the armour, then?" asked the Nord. "Mages don't normally wear armour. Or carry swords, for that matter."

"I'm not a full mage like you," said An-Zaw. "I just thought it would be useful to know a few spells."

"I wish all the other warriors in Skyrim shared your outlook." The Nord outstretched his hand. "I'm called Onmund. The Dark Elf there is Brelyna Maron, and the Khajiit's J'Zargo."

An-Zaw shook Onmund's hand. "An-Zaw. Pleased to meet you. So, do you have any idea where our master is?"

As if on cue, an old Nord burst through the door, his arms full of scrolls and spell tomes. He dropped a few as he ran over to the class. "Sorry I'm late! So sorry!" he said.

"Where have –" began Brelyna.

"Sorry, I forgot! Could you pick those up?"

They did so, as the old Nord put down the books and scrolls he had been carrying. "Sorry about that," he said. "Anyway, my name is Tolfdir, and I'll be your master here at the College. Now, before we begin, I think we should just go over some basic magical concepts. The first thing we should learn is that magic is, by its very nature, volatile and dangerous."

"Master, I think we all know the inherent risks involved in magic," said Brelyna. "We wouldn't be here otherwise."

"I agree," said Onmund. "We should learn something more practical, I think."

"The Dunmer and the Nord are right," said J'Zargo. "The faster we learn new spells, the faster we become powerful mages, yes?"

Eventually Tolfdir caved in, and taught them some basic wards and Oakflesh. Any other spells would be too dangerous at this stage, he said. J'Zargo looked disappointed at that.

After the lesson, Tolfdir told them that they would be going to the College's excavation in the old Nord ruin of Saarthal in two days' time. An-Zaw went to the Arcanaeum and asked about the Elder Scroll.

"Are you kidding me?" said the librarian, an old Orc by the name of Urag Gro-Shurub. "Even if we did have one, then it would be kept under the closest guard and no one would be allowed to even touch it, let alone a new apprentice."

"Do you at least have any leads on it, then?" asked An-Zaw. He would be damned if he came all this way for nothing.

"Well, we do have some," said Urag. He walked over to one of the bookshelves, unlocked it and took out two books.

"Thank you," said An-Zaw. "Could I take them back to my room and study them?"

"If you must," grunted Urag. "But if you damage just one page in the slightest way, I will summon a horde of angry Frost Atronachs to mash you into a bloody stain on the floor. Is that clear?"

An-Zaw hesitated. "Yes," he said, being very careful.

He took the books and read them in his room. One of them, called _Effects of the Elder Scrolls_, didn't really tell him anything he needed to know but was still interesting. The other one, _Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls_, was completely incomprehensible. An-Zaw determined to ask Urag about it, but it was getting late. He went to bed.

* * *

It was _hefvulon_ when Bofaanfor returned. Premniruth heard, but remained in place. The Dovahkiin had not done anything of note, and so the _dovah_ continued waiting. Bofaanfor landed beside him. "_Premniruth, zu'u lost daal._"

"_Zu'u mindok, Bofaanfor. Zu'u hon hi_," said Premniruth. He need not _uful_ about being _hon_ by the _joor_; they should all be _enlaag_ by now. "_Drey nust meyz?_"

"_Geh_."

_Pruzah_. "_Gesaag niin wah pek voth vorey. Nust fen mindok fod nii los tiid_."

"_Zu'u fen, Premniruth._" With that, Bofaanfor left. The wingbeats grew louder and Premniruth turned face the _lok_. He was greeted with the _zaarein_ of twenty three more _dovah_, fresh from the place the _joor_ called High Rock. Soon, the _joor_ would see the _vahzah suleyk_ of the _dovah_.

"_Das,_" breathed Premniruth.

* * *

When An-Zaw woke up, he decided to see how Lydia was doing. "She's much better," said Colette. "It'll be a few more days before she can fight again, though." That wasn't the best news. An-Zaw wanted to be moving again as soon as possible, and he couldn't do that if Lydia was incapacitated. Still, at least she was getting better. An-Zaw made his way to the Arcanaeum with the two books to ask about them. Urag told him that the second book, the incomprehensible one, had been written by a former College member by the way of Septimus Signus.

"And where can I find this Septimus Signus?" asked An-Zaw.

"He left a few years ago; last I heard of him, he was living as a mad hermit somewhere in the Sea of Ghosts."

It took all of An-Zaw's willpower not to throw Septimus's book at Urag. He thanked the Orc for his help, carefully put the books back on the counter, walked outside, stood there for a moment and then, using the Voice to add more volume, yelled at the sky in rage.

* * *

Bruleif Bear-Heart was a guard in Winterhold. He was a simple man with a simple life. Like many in Winterhold, he didn't trust the College but at the same time he knew that there was precious little to be done about them. That morning, he had been assigned to watch the gate. Make sure that no one entered the city looking for trouble, keep wolves out, sound the alarm if a dragon attacked, that sort of thing. It was boring, but then so was the rest of Winterhold. Someone had to keep them safe though, and that's where the guards came in.

For over an hour, nothing happened. As usual. Then Bruleif heard a loud, booming noise echo through the mountains. And then he heard the roar. Only one kind of creature made that sound – a dragon.

Bruleif waited before he sounded the alarm. After all, it might not be attacking. It might just be passing nearby. Then he saw it flying over the mountains. The dragon was definitely heading for Winterhold. Then he saw another. And another. And more. Bruleif didn't bother to count, but at a guess he would say that there were at least three dozen dragons there. And they were all flying towards Winterhold.

Brunleif sounded the alarm.

_AN: The Draconic's a bit heavier in this chapter, but again I think it should be easy to figure it out from the context and I've made sure to say what the basic conversation was about whenever the dragons talk. Once again, any constructive criticism is welcome (as is any unbridled praise) so make sure to leave a review!_


	3. Chapter 3 - The Siege Begins

There was chaos in Winterhold. The guards ran to the gates, bows in hand, as the citizens ran around trying to figure out where to go and what to do. They had heard of the dragons, and there were even stories that one had been lurking in Mount Anthor, but they had not suspected that the situation would be this bad.

Jarl Korir ran out of his hall to see what was going on. "By the Nine…" he said. Winterhold was barely able to hold out against a bandit attack, let alone three dozen dragons. The High Elf mage whose name Korir didn't care to remember opened the door of the Frozen Hearth. He looked outside and ran back in. The dragons kept on with their flight. In a minute, they would reach the wall. Korir drew his sword.

A bolt of fire from behind Korir caught one of the dragons in the eye. The beast roared in pain and faltered for a moment. The Jarl looked behind him to see the mage standing just outside the Frozen Hearth as Dagur and his family ran out carrying sacks and boxes of food and drink, along with some bed rolls.

"Get to the College!" said the elf. Korir hesitated. He hated the College and everything it stood for, but on the other hand it was their best chance. Besides, if the mages had done this then the dragons wouldn't try to destroy the College.

"Brunleif, Revgi, help me get the townsfolk to the College!" yelled Korir. "Everyone else, hold them off!" Korir dashed back inside the Longhouse to gather his family and the Stormcloak General, Wet-Pommel. His steward, Seloth, had already left. That didn't surprise Korir in the slightest.

They gathered their most valued possessions and ran outside, towards the College. Wet-Pommel joined the guards trying to bring down the dragons. As they passed Birna's Oddments, Korir saw Birna consider a claw-like object for a moment, then discard it before running outside with her belongings. The Jarl looked back at the dragons. It wouldn't be long before they were past the ruined wall. The guards still hadn't managed to kill any of the dragons yet. Korir doubted they'd even managed to hit one.

The refugees were at the bridge. The elf that stood guard there let them pass. Once everyone had started across, she ran behind them. They made it across, to find a Breton woman staring them down. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked.

The High Elf from the inn stepped forward. "Mirabelle, we don't have time for this. There are dragons attacking Winterhold and once they're done there, they'll fly here to the College."

The Breton looked shocked. "… I see. I'll get the Archmage; he'll know what to do. Faralda, I'll leave you to sort them out." With that, she ran into the large stone building on the other side of the courtyard.

"Dragons, you say?" said a raspy voice from nearby. Korir turned and saw a red-scaled Argonian with yellow plumage and horns on top of his head wearing a thick bear-skin cloak and a suit of Nordic armour. Next to the lizard stood a woman in steel armour and with a bandaged arm. "That just so happens to be our line of work."

"Have you seen how many there are?" said someone behind Korir. Kraldar, by the sound of his voice. "This is more than a mercenary like yourself can handle."

"Mercenary? Well, I suppose that's one way to describe me," said the Argonian. He bared his teeth slightly in a grin. "Although personally, I much prefer 'Dragonborn'."

* * *

The dragons had just about reached them. There was no doubt that the guards left to hold off the dragons would die. It took would take about five to kill only one, and there seemed to be as many as three dozen beasts here. But they had been given a task, to hold off the dragons until the others had gotten to safety. And by Talos, that was what they intended to do.

If any of the arrows had yet hit, then they hadn't done anything. Kai Wet-Pommel reached behind himself for another arrow, only to find that he had run out. The Stormcloak swore under his breath and unsheathed his greatsword. He looked around; some of the other guards had run out of arrows too. "Spread out!" ordered Kai. "Get to cover!"

The first dragon to reach them flew past the wall and turned behind Jarl Korir's longhouse. It looked like it was aiming for Soldin. The guard nocked an arrow, pulled back, and held it. The dragon opened its mouth to roar and Soldin loosed the arrow. It flew into the dragon's mouth. The beast caught Soldin and crashed into the snow, ploughing a deep furrow in the ground until it fell off the cliff. It seemed to be dead.

Another dragon flew overhead, breathing fire. One of the remaining guards was caught in the blaze and fell, his body burning in the snow. The dragon came back around and landed. It snapped up a guard in its powerful jaws and swallowed him whole. Three more guards charged towards it. The dragon turned around and sent all of them flying. They hit the longhouse, fell to the ground and stayed there.

Kai was the only one left. Most of the other dragons were there and had gotten to work burning and tearing down the buildings. Kai went and hid behind a rock, then saw a man stagger out of the Frozen Hearth. He guessed that it was Ranmir, drunk as usual.

Ranmir saw the dragons and looked terrified. He ran down the stairs, towards Winterhold. He tripped on one of the cobblestones, and tried to pick himself up. A dragon perched atop the inn saw him, and breathed fire at him. When the gout of flame stopped, Ranmir was a charred shape on the ground.

A dragon on the ground turned its head in Kai's direction. He had been spotted. There was no hope of survival now. Kai stood up and took hold of his greatsword. He started running towards the dragon. On this day, he went to Sovngarde.

Kai roared in a wordless battlecry. The dragon reared its head back and opened its mouth. A stream of frost and ice and cold surged forth and engulfed Kai. And then he felt cold. So cold.

In moments, Kai was frozen solid, an icy statue that had once been alive, forever charging at his final opponent.

* * *

It had worked. The _lohiim_ belonged to them now. Premniruth's pack of _dovah_ had taken it and only one of them had been _kriaan_. Now they were busy destroying the _sahlo_ structures which the _joor_ had raised up in their _pahlok_. If any thought they could hide in their _bodein_, they would be _kelad_ like the _reimokur_ they were. Walls were smashed and _vazaan tum_, and wooden houses were burned to the _golt_. And yet there was no sign of the Dovahkiin, and very few other _joor_.

Premniruth growled. The _angar_! The _joor nikriin_ must have _bovul_ there. They could still be hiding in the _lohiim_, though. And they had not finished destroying it yet. A scout would do. One scout, _geh_, that would be all. And if the scout found the _joor_ in the _angar_, then Premniruth would send the rest to deal with them.

"_Vulgobaaf!_" yelled Premniruth. The blue _dovah_ flew over and hovered near Premniruth. "_Shur wah qethsegol angarangar ahrk gesaag zey waan hi koraav joor._"

"_Geh, Premniruth_," said Vulgobaaf, and flew towards the _angar_. If Vulgobaaf returned saying that he had found the _joor_, then Premniruth would bring the rest of the _dovah_ and they would take the _angar_ as well. If Vulgobaaf didn't return… Well, that would mean the same thing. Premniruth took off to the air, and started burning the large building he had been perched on.

* * *

Faralda had arranged for the Winterhold refugees to put their bed rolls and belongings in the Hall of the Elements. There was some indignant murmuring from Korir and one of the guards but no real problems. Upon doing a head count they found that Ranmir had been left behind. It was too late to go back for him; he was almost certainly dead by now.

An-Zaw stood at the front of the courtyard, watching Winterhold burn. He had no real affinity for the place. He had never been here before and his main impression of it had been the cold. But watching it be destroyed brought back some memories of his first experience in Skyrim, the event that had started this quest to save the world. Memories of bound hands, a carriage going down a hill, of pine trees and snow, stone gates and towers, and a headsman's block. Helgen, the day he'd almost been executed. His neck was resting on the block, his head hanging over a basket. He looked up at the executioner. As he remembered it there was no fear in his eyes. If he was going to die, he was going to die. No use crying about it. The executioner raised the axe… And then Alduin appeared, landing on the tower behind the headsman. After that was a blur. Dragon flame, fire and rock falling from a blood red sky, and a burning town. He escaped, luckily. But nothing was ever the same after that.

The sound of wingbeats brought An-Zaw back to the present. He looked up. There was a blue dragon, flying above the College. It seemed to be the only one, luckily. "Dragon!" yelled An-Zaw. Doors opened, mages running into the courtyard. There were flashes of light and fireballs flying everywhere. In seconds, the dragon was down on the ground. Gaping holes had been punched through its wings, a long shaft of ice was lodged in its shoulder and its blue scales were pitted and charred. But it was still alive.

"Finish it," said Tolfdir. "No need to leave it like this."

An-Zaw drew his sword and walked up to it. He looked into its eyes for a moment, then plunged his sword into the dragon's skull. The beast died. After a few moments, its scales started to glow and melt. Then they started glowing with even more intensity, and streams of light poured forth off the dragon's bones into An-Zaw. Finally, the light stopped and all that was left was a skeleton. Vulgobaaf's soul had the usual warmth, but instead of anger and rage the soul felt like fear. Vulgobaaf had only been a scout, not a deadly fighter like most of the other dragons. In the dragon's memory An-Zaw found a new Word for a new Shout – _feim_, meaning 'fade'.

The refugees from Winterhold came outside. "You weren't lying when you said you were Dragonborn," said a Dunmer. "I didn't expect it to be this impressive, though."

An-Zaw ignored him. "That dragon was a scout," he said.

"So?" said J'Zargo. "It is dead now. It cannot go back to tell its friends if it is dead."

"No," An-Zaw shook his head. "If it doesn't go back then that means the same as if it did get back to tell them."

"So what do we do?" said a man from Winterhold. "Where can we go now? Even all these mages can't stop all of those dragons!"

"I believe I can help with that," came the reply. The crowd turned and saw a Dunmer in black and white robes. The Archmage.

"Just like you helped when most of Winterhold fell into the sea?" said the Jarl.

"This is not the time," snapped the Archmage. "I was about to say that I could put up a protective shield around the College that the dragons won't be able to get through, like a very large and powerful ward. But if you think you can do better, I'm all ears."

Korir remained silent. "Good," said the Archmage. "If that's all, then I'll get started. Although it might take some time."

"We don't have any time!" yelled Dagur.

An-Zaw came forward. "If someone distracted the dragons, would that give you more time?"

"Well, yes, I suppose –" began the Archmage.

An-Zaw didn't need to hear anymore. "Someone pass me a bow and some arrows," he said. One of the guards did so. An-Zaw took them and started walking towards the bridge. Lydia ran over to him.

"My Thane, you can't do this!" she said. "I am sworn to protect you and if you die, then I have failed to uphold that oath! There's no way you can –"

An-Zaw stopped and turned to face her. "Lydia, it's the only way to save these people. I have to do this or everyone here is going to die. Not just me. And I can't let that happen. As my housecarl, you are sworn to obey me, so listen to me when I say there is nothing you can do for me. I need you to go back in there and protect the others."

Lydia's shoulders sagged. "Just try not to die, then," she said, and then she walked back into the courtyard. An-Zaw continued across the bridge. He got to the corner. He could see one of the dragons looking toward the College. The dragon said a word that An-Zaw didn't understand and flew over to the bridge.

"So, Dovahkiin," said the dragon in its deep, booming voice. "You have come to face me? Or perhaps to _krentar_?"

"I'll assume I'm going with the first one here," said An-Zaw, and he readied an arrow as fast as he could. He pulled back the string and aimed at the dragon.

"You are brave, Dovahkiin," it said. "But also foolish." The dragon seemed to take a breath. An-Zaw fired, but the arrow went wide. "Of course it did," he muttered under his breath as the first word came from the dragon.

"_**FUS RO DAH!**_" The blue force rushed towards An-Zaw, and the section of the bridge An-Zaw was standing on came apart, chunks of masonry separating and falling. And An-Zaw was falling with it. He thought he heard Lydia cry out, and he was falling again. There was one thing he could do. He opened his mouth to speak. He said one word. "_Feim._" And then the world turned a blurry blue. An-Zaw couldn't feel the air rushing past him anymore, and his whole body seemed to turn intangible. He saw a shimmering sphere of light appear around the College. A chunk of rock seemed to pass right through the space his body was occupying.

And then An-Zaw hit the ground. It went dark.

_AN: Once again, comments and criticism would be appreciated. There should be a new chapter up every week or so, so stay tuned! An-Zaw will be back – same dragon-time, same dragon-channel!_


End file.
